The Purge Should Have Stuck to the Big Screen

Five years after the original movie arrived, the core concept for The Purge remains irresistible, in a scuzzy B-movie kind of way. Every year, for 12 hours, all crime is made legal. In theory, this brief period of lawlessness will allow Americans a safe outlet for all their rage, which will make for a happier and healthier country in the long run. In practice, it’s heavily implied, the Purge is a kind of socially stratified population control, with the rich hiding behind impenetrable security systems while the poor are disproportionately slaughtered.

The four Purge movies released to date have dug into this concept at great length, with the most recent entries exploring what both the beginning and the end of the Purge might look like. So—perhaps realizing that the franchise has exhausted every imaginable narrative on the big screen—The Purge has leapt to the USA Network for a new limited TV series.

At 10 episodes, The Purge nearly reaches the length of the Purge, and extending this concept turns out to be more exhausting than exhilarating. You can imagine a more interesting version of what this Purge series could have been—a Black Mirror–esque anthology exploring the Purge from a brand new perspective every week, or a tight, propulsive thriller that would have borrowed 24’s real-time conceit. But The Purge quickly settles into a more conventional TV format: a broad palette of bland characters with simple goals, whose journeys are stretched to needless, repetitious lengths so they can fill up these hours of television.

So who are our "heroes" this time around? Plenty of side characters hover on the margins, but the first three episodes of The Purge largely focus on three distinct character arcs—none of which offer anything new, interesting, or surprising to the now-standard Purge formula. There's an under-appreciated corporate ladder climber who thinks she can use the Purge to reach the next rung; an ex-Marine (and previous Purge survivor) attempting to rescue his sister from a cult that wants to use her as a Purge sacrifice; and an ambitious young couple who use a fancy, high-security Purge party to pitch a project that would propel them into the uber-rich. There are hints that all these stories will cross over before the series ends, and it’s probably safe to assume all these characters will be in the same place when the series finale mercifully arrives.

If you’re patient and generous, you’ll find a few bright spots in The Purge’s first three hours. There’s some wicked black comedy in a corporation where employees can literally back-stab their way to the top, and an over-the-top angel investor who idolizes real-life serial killers pioneers the "healing power of violence." The angelic pro-Purge cult—which drives around in a school bus, dropping off brainwashed teens to be murdered by psychopaths—is a wild idea that, like much of The Purge, grows grating with repetition.

But those brazen little flourishes can’t save a series that’s inherently rotten. On the whole, The Purge is too goofy to be taken seriously, and too self-serious to be much fun. As always, The Purge unfolds its social critique with the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the forehead. The first episode is called "What Is America?" And I guess that’s the question The Purge is trying to answer. But after four movies, it’s probably time to contemplate whether The Purge has already said everything it has to say. The Purge was, and remains, a fun hypothetical to kick around with friends over a couple of beers. But after five years to take this concept in literally any direction, there’s no excuse for the leaden, ham-fisted execution of this TV series. If this is the best idea The Purge’s brain trust could come up with…well, maybe it is time to call off Purge Night once and for all.

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